


Chivalry and Bravery

by Vermouth19



Series: From Under the Whomping Willow [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Bandom Big Bang, Drama, Family, Gen, They're still underage, might add more characters, no slash YET, poor Patrick, sorry i'm bad at tagging game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 00:50:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11280297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vermouth19/pseuds/Vermouth19
Summary: “You’re lucky, kid. Next time, I won’t go easy on you.” With that, Walsh gave him the last kick on the stomach and followed the others toward Exit door.Patrick did not bother moving his battered body, merely blinking away the water from the sprinkle that got mixed with his own tears.He just wanted a normal life. Was it too much to ask?





	Chivalry and Bravery

**Author's Note:**

> If you feel familiar with this, I repost it to divide the timeline between Muggle world and Hogwarts. I also made slight change on the first 2 chapters I previously posted so... yeah...
> 
> I only saw few Fall Out Boy / Hogwarts fanfic so I will try to give it a shot. For the purpose of this story, every character lives in UK instead of US so I hope you don't get too confused by this. For the sorting part, I'm just going to sort them based on what they value in real life (I think), don't judge me too hard if you think they got into the wrong house!

 

_OhmyGodChrissohandsomePleasenoticemePleasenoticeme_

_BoredBoredBoredBoredBoredBoredBored_

_WillKatesavemeaseatatthecafetariaShebetterbeThat_ _b_ _itch_

_DidIpassthattestIthinkIdidOhGodImnotgoingtograduate_

As an eleven year old kid who recently transferred to Irving Primary School, Patrick wished his life would be easier here.

Boy was he wrong.

The constant buzz of students’ mind that intruded Patrick’s as he walked passed them on the way to the next class was making him sick. Countless thoughts of angsty, whinny teenagers flooded Patrick’s mind like the sound of thousand bees just hanging around constantly around his head. Actually, he would prefer the bees over someone’s wet dream, thank you very much.

Fortunately enough for him, he already passed the stage of thinking that he went crazy or could hear the dead. That was not a fun time for him, especially since he was only six that time. His parents had taken him to various types of doctors (even shrink) and always came back to ground zero. So now, Patrick was at the stage of accepting himself as a real mind hearer (yes, hearer; as in he did not want to but he heard it anyway).

After he and his parents told him about his condition, they were merciful enough to let Patrick be home schooled back in the US. That changed when his dad’s work relocated him to UK and brought us all along to move there. He did not mind the work that needed to be done at school; he was doing okay considering the fact that he was home schooled. What he very much minded was the whole day nonverbal assault that he had to endure from Monday to Friday, 8.30 a.m. to 3 p.m. After his first week there, he wished he could talk to the Headmaster and urged him to apply mandatory counseling session to every student.

Patrick always wanted to beg his parents to get him private tutor and did the whole studying thing at home, but here everything was more expensive and getting a private tutor certainly would not be cheap. Plus, he saw that his parents, Kevin, and Megan had settled down well with their own lives. He just needed to do better in adapting.

By adapting, he meant stealing house’s supply of migraine pill and swallowed it every day right before he went to school (Patrick could not wait to grow up just so he could buy it himself). The pill made him felt sleepy all day but managed to turn the clear shouting into faint buzzing at the back of his head. However, he woke up late today and forgot to get the pill. The next thing he knew, he was standing in the middle of the hall with everyone’s mind clawing inside his brain.

And the worst part of the school to feel that sensation? Cafeteria.

Patrick really wished he could skip lunch but his stomach protested loud enough for him to relent. He grabbed the easiest food he could get in short time (milk, yogurt, empty buns) and went toward the smaller kids’ table. He still did not have any friends yet (it was a lot harder to get one when you could tell that they secretly hated you) and this was the best option he got; the kids felt uneasy neared him but were not brave enough to reject him so it would do for now.

The downside of that plan: Patrick got himself in the firing line from bullies.

Patrick was currently eating in silence along with the other four Year 3 students when Archie Walsh and two of his fellow Year 6 friends approached the younger kids’ group on the other side of the table. One of them, upon noticing that disaster was coming, tried to leave but one of Walsh’s cronies grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him to sit down.

_Nononononononohelphelp_

_ThatyoughurtismineChrisbetternottakeit_

_PleasepleasecooperatekidsHopenoteacherseethis_

_Theybetterhavemoremoneytoday_

Patrick closed his eyes and pretend to ignore the scene happened next to him. What did he do wrong to be cursed with this?

“Good morning, Madeline. Did mommy give you what I asked yesterday?” Walsh greeted him casually, grabbing one of the kids’ unopened yogurt and helped himself with that.

The girl with brunette hair passed him a Pound with trembling hand, quickly snatching it away as soon as the boy got what he wanted. However, he did not leave just yet and instead turned to the other three kids. “Are you three born deaf or do you want me to check your ears?”

The other girl and one boy handed him three Pounds in total, but the last boy . . .

_IneedtobuymompresentThisismylastpoundIwontbeabletoeattomorrow_

Anger lit inside Patrick’s chest and before he knew it, he let words poured down his mouth without even thinking about it first.

“That boy’s mother will know that it was you if he comes home with stomachache for skipping lunch.”

The whole table went quiet as soon as Patrick said that. He silently cursed himself but he would not let these bullies scared the little kids like this. He might as well go all in, now that he got their attention.

_Whothefuckisthatkid_

_WhatishedoingStupidStupidStupid_

Walsh slowly circled the table, along with his friends on his back as usual, and stopped right beside Patrick. Meanwhile, Patrick was once again closing his eyes from the nonverbal assault he was getting as people around them began to know what was happening on his table. Some said that he was stupid, the other said that he was brave, but no one was going to help him.

“What did you say, new kid?”

Patrick opened his eyes and looked straight back at him. When he did that, his anger flared again and now in addition to the noises, he could see fragments of Walsh’ memories.

His vision was abruptly cut when he heard loud clatter and something liquid poured into his lap. Walsh apparently had spilled Patrick’s lunch tray and the carton of milk fell into his lap. The three bullies laughed hard while everyone watched them and Patrick in horror.

“Next time, think before you speak, newbie,” Walsh sneered at him before turning to leave.

“Like you did when you cursed in front of you mother?”

Walsh and his cronies froze at that remark, as well as the other kids who listened to Patrick’s loud voice, who was now standing and furious.

“Yeah, next time, why don’t you wash that so called mouth and try to live by your own advice? That way, she won’t cut your allowance and you don’t have to beg for smaller kids’ small change?” Patrick continued to share what he just saw to the now quiet cafeteria.

Walsh’ eyes were widened in shock. He quickly replaced it with the look of furious that matched Patrick’s. “Did you just accuse me, kid?!”

“Are you born deaf?” A collective gasps could be heard as Patrick spit back Walsh’ own words. “And no, I’m just stating a fact. I have only been here for a month and yet I know what you and your friends were doing. I doubt that the others who have been here longer didn’t notice it.”

Walsh slowly walked toward him with eyes squinted. He was bigger and taller than Patrick (hence why he resorted to bullying) but he was too angry to be scarred at this point.

“New kid, I’m going to make you wish you never enroll in this school,” spat Walsh on his face while shoving his chest hard, making him slammed his own hand to the table to prevent him from collapsing. He recovered quickly and moved back to his original position.

“Never did, but while I am here, I’m going to show the other students just how low you are for threatening younger kids. If you feel desperate enough for money, you should pay better attention in class. That way, you father will probably help you instead of beating you up every night!”

For once, he was glad that he was able to hear minds and was able to dodge Walsh’ punch. However, he did not get lucky the second time as the other two bullies decided to participate. Patrick managed to punch one of the cronies but being almost as big as Walsh, they recovered quickly and held his arms to give Walsh better access to his body.  
The first punch on his stomach knocked the breath out of his body. The second one made him wheezing. God, it hurt so much. He heard so much shouting all around him but his attention was efficiently distracted by a fist on the left cheek.

Patrick did not know how long and how many times those three kids beat him up but when he almost blacked out, he felt a hard jolt inside his guts, probably from the fear or what was left of his anger. Next thing he knew, a loud siren was blaring from the roof and water was pouring down from the fire sprinkle. He was unceremoniously dropped to the ground and the tremor told him that everyone was running outside of the cafeteria. Someone must had had triggered the fire alarm. Patrick should thank whoever he or she was if he could still enroll here after this.

“You’re lucky, kid. Next time, I won’t go easy on you.” With that, Walsh gave him the last kick on the stomach and followed the others toward Exit door.

Patrick did not bother moving his battered body, merely blinking away the water from the sprinkle that got mixed with his own tears.

He just wanted a normal life. Was it too much to ask?

 

* * *

 

Patrick sat slumped on the edge of clinic’s bed by the time his mother came to pick him up upon school’s request.

“Patrick! Are you alright? What happened?” Patrick refused to look at her when she moved to stand in front of him. He heard her gasped loudly when she was finally able to get closer look at him. The painkiller fortunately numbed his mind so he could not know how disappointed she was in him.

“Mrs. Stump, I presume?” greeted a female voice from the door. Patrick’s eyes were still glued to the white tile below his dangling feet as Mrs. Brown, the school counselor, shook his mother’s hand.

“Who did this to him?” His mother’s angry voice made him flinched. “And why is he drenched like that?”

The counselor, who was much taller than her, seemed unfazed by this. “Mrs. Stump, from what I gathered from the other children who witnessed the incident, Patrick got involved in a fight with three Year 6 students. The boys had admitted their action but they said Patrick taunted them first. I haven’t talked to your son yet since he was immediately brought here so I hope you can give your side of the story,” said Mrs. Brown, ended her report with indirect invitation for Patrick to speak for himself.

Now that both women’s attention was on him, Patrick saw no way out and finally relented. “They were blackmailing younger kids. I was trying to distract Walsh from them.”

“Patrick, that is a serious accusation,” Mrs. Brown said, frowned deeply. “Do you remember which students that you saw being blackmailed?”

Patrick shook his head. “They were four of them, two girls and two boys. Year 3, I think.”

“That was a very brave act you just did, Patrick,” Mrs. Brown kindly said, before giving the bitter pill, “but you must know better not to start a fight. Next time you see anything like this, you can tell one of the teacher or me. Alright?”

By the time he went for the teachers, the boy would have already lost his allowance, but Patrick chose to nod instead.

Mrs. Brown’s attention shifted back to her mother. “While I know your son’s intention was well, Irving has zero tolerance for violence. I am very sorry to tell you both that Patrick is being suspended for three days for initiating a fight.”

If it was possible, Patrick hunched his back lower upon hearing his verdict. His mother, however, was livid.

“You suspend him for standing up against bullying?  _Seriously?_ ”

“Here in Irving, we simply do not tolerate violence in any form. I can assure you that necessary action will also be given to students who did this to Patrick but he needs to know that taunting other kid like that is not the solution,” said Mrs. Brown, using matter-of-fact tone as if she was explaining that one plus one is two.

His mother seemed to get the same vibe as she circled her arm around Patrick to help him getting down from the bed and at the same time said, “I hope you can cure those kids’ bad habit because Patrick won’t be there the next time this happens again. I withdraw my son from this school. Thank you for your time.”

Patrick saw a glance of Mrs. Brown’s shock look before his mother led them toward the door. They walked slowly in silence toward the parking lot. Few students gave him pity look but that was all. After they got into the car (with the help from his mother, much to his embarrassment), she sighed heavily and proceeded to check on his bruises with such sad expression.

Patrick wanted to thank her for getting him out of the school permanently, but instead he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, this is not your fault. You were very brave for protecting your juniors like that. Just . . .” she sighed again, and then gave him sympathetic smile, “Next time, try not to hurt yourself while doing that.”

He mirrored her smile, only to wince when it stretched his torn lip. “I’ll try, mom.”

His mother had finally done her checking on him and as she started the car, asked him, “Do we need to go to the hospital? What did the nurse say?”

He shook his head. “Just bruises, nothing is broken.”

“Good. I’m going to have a long, aggressive talk with that boy’s mother if that happened,” she said between her gritted teeth. “And how was your head?”

Patrick knew that she was referring to his condition, so he gave her an honest answer. “The painkiller that they give me helps.”

“Well, we can stop by at the drugstore to get you some more for that and the pain. You can’t take migraine pill everyday at your age so we’re looking for milder one.”

Patrick’s head snapped at that innocent quip. “Mom, you knew?”

“Of course,” she said, drove the car out of the school’s property he hated so much at this point. “Your dad and I let it slide because it seems to help you a lot. We just need to find smaller dosage that suits your age.”

This was why he loved his mother so much. “Thanks, Mom.”

 

* * *

 

Dinner with the whole family did not go that well, though, but it could be worse. His father clearly agreed with his mother on withdrawing him from the school but he was not pleased on needing to find another one.

_TristanistoofarawayHaylingtonistooexpensiveItwascheaperthanhiringatutorthough_

_IhatecarrotwhymommygivemesomuchIwanticecream_

_MathhomeworkIwishIcanlearnviolinPoorPatrick_

_Tutorwouldbebestbutexpensive_

“Can I just wait until Megan is old enough to also enroll?” Patrick said after he could not stand hearing that he had yet caused more trouble for his parents to fix, aside from the fact that he could not eat without reopening the split on his lip. “You don’t have to hire a tutor. I can just help with the house chores and learn whatever I can get from the internet.”

“Yeah, learning,” Kevin snorted next to him, earning a deathly glare from his younger brother.

His father ignored his eldest son and instead looked concern at Patrick. “We can’t just ignore your education, Rick.”

Patrick sighed. “I don’t do well among strangers. It hurts my head.”

The dining went quiet after that, saved from Megan who complained that she did not want to eat carrots. Patrick hated that every time he brought the subject of his condition, the atmosphere turned very awkward for everybody. They were kind enough to accept his condition but it was still a sensitive subject within the family.

“I can tutor him every night, after finishing my homework,” Kevin broke the silence with a light tone. “Like the basic stuff in math, science, human anatomy if you want to be specifi-OW!” His parents were laughing while Kevin tended his sore shin after Patrick kicked him hard.

“I hate you but that is a good idea,” Patrick commented, finding himself smirking a bit at his brother’s generous offer. He turned to his parents and put on his best good-boy look. “Can I?”

The ring of front door bell cut whatever his mother was going to say. She looked at his husband. “Are you expecting any guest?”

He shook his head, also confused. “No. I’ll get it.”

While his dad went to answer the doorbell, the rest of family continued their dinner. That was, until Patrick’s dad grew louder and reached the dining room.

“Sir, why do you want to meet my son at this hour?”

“I’m sorry to come at such an inappropriate time, Mr. Stump, but I need to deliver this letter to Patrick himself.”

All heads in the dining room went up then shifted to Patrick, who looked as confused as they were. Was it from Irving? It could not be, not at 8 p.m. Patrick did not have any friends, and if he did, they would call and not send a letter.

His curiosity finally won as he stood and quickly went to the front door to see who the man speaking to his father was. When he got there, his confusion only got bigger. The man looked anything but normal. He looked like the same age as his father, with short dark hair and round face, but the clothes that he wore was so outdated that it made him looked way older. Why was he wearing a robe? Was that the latest UK fashion trend?

Even weirder was his mind.

_IshouldtakethatFirewhiskeybeforecominghereMerlinsbeardthisisharderthanIthoughtThereheis!_

“Are you Patrick?” The man, who noticed his presence through his dad’s attempt on blocking his view, startled him with his own name. How did he know his name?

The man’s excited grin, however, faded quickly as Patrick braved himself to walk closer to the door, much to his father’s protest, and gave him a clear look on his appearance. “Merlin’s beard, what happened to you?”

“Sir!” His father’s face grew redder, clearly wanted the stranger to leave. “You’re in no place to ask that kind of . . .”

The man’s gaze slowly shifted back to Patrick’s father but now there was anger written on his expression. Patrick winced when he heard what he was thinking of the whole situation.

“I got into a fight at school! My dad is just trying to protect me,” Patrick loudly said, beating his father’s voice. As soon as he said that, the horrible nonverbal accusation stopped immediately.

“Oh, right,” the man awkwardly said, clearly embarrassed by his own thoughts. He quickly recovered and, ignoring the older Stump in front of him, spoke directly to Patrick. “I can fix your lip if you let me.”

_NeedtoconvincethemthatImeanwellJustlikewhatHermionesaidKeepcalmNeville_

“Dad,” Patrick was now stood beside him and grabbed his arm to calm him down. He gave him a meaningful look when he said, “I don’t think he is a bad person.”

“Of course not!” The man quipped, glad that Patrick helped him. “I am, in fact, a professor in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

Both Patrick and his father gave him a blank look for a whole minute until the man sighed. “It will make it easier for me to explain if you let me fix Patrick’s lip.”

“You said you are a professor? As in scientist?” His father’s anger lowered a bit and replaced by confusion.

The stranger reached to the inside of his robe and retrieved a long stick on his right hand. “No, as in teacher in school for wizards.” Before they could ask what the stick was for, he pointed it toward Patrick’s face and said, “Episkey.”

His father dragged Patrick away from him and was ready to attack the man, thought that he was trying to attack Patrick, when Patrick felt a sharp sting on his torn lip and then . . .

_Nothing._

He heard noises coming from the back of the house, probably his mother and Kevin had heard his father’s yelp just now, but Patrick’s attention was pointed directly to the stranger by the door. When the tip of his finger touched his lip, it traced the smooth surface instead what used to be a pretty gnash torn.

“Get out of my house!”

“David! Are you okay? What’s going on there?”

“Patrick!”

“ _GUYS!_ ” Patrick screamed to beat the other voices inside the house and his own head. His father was about to yell back at him when he saw Patrick’s lip and noticed the big difference. Patrick, however, was still looking at the stranger who looked very pleased with what he just did.

“I hope that lessen your pain. Having split lip is not a pleasant time, trust me I know,” the man said with a grim expression. “I wish I could do the same to those bruises but I currently left my . . .”

“How did you do that?” Patrick cut him, sounded a bit hysteric and amazed at the same time.

The stranger put the stick back to his pocket and simply shrugged. “You can do it as well once you enroll in Hogwarts.”

 

* * *

 

The situation was awkward as hell, with Patrick and his parents squeezed themselves onto the sofa while their new guest took the single chair. Patrick’s father was still throwing disbelief and suspicious look toward him but at least Patrick and his mother managed to convince him to give the man a chance to explain himself. He only let Patrick joined the conversation between the adults because the man insisted on this, so Kevin and Megan were back to their room after cleaning up the dining table. Patrick was sure that his brother was eavesdropping from the stairs, though.

The man, who apparently brought a brown, leather suitcase with him as he put it next to his seat gently, reached inside his robe once again but this time he pulled out a brown envelope. Much to Patrick’s surprise, he gave it to him instead of his parents.

“I believe this is yours,” he said, encouraging him to take it. As his mother watched him tried to open it with trembling hand, his father still had not let his gaze off the man.

“I don’t see why you can’t just mail the letter, Mister . . .”

“Longbottom. Neville Longbottom.”

His father watched him as if he was joking, but when clearly he was not, he continued, “Right. Mr. Longbottom.”

“Well, the letter is usually sent by owl but since Patrick is born within a Muggle family, school policy stated that the letter should be delivered by school staff that will provide the explanation needed.”

Now his father looked skeptical. “Explanation for admission to school of magician? At this hour?”

For a second, Mr. Longbottom seemed very offended by his choice of words, but obviously tried really hard to contain his anger. “Mr. Stump, I did not heal your son with some kind of cheap magic trick. I came to tell him that he, like I am, is a wizard.”

Patrick’s head jolted up at that, opened letter forgotten on his lap. “I’m a  _what_?”

Mr. Longbottom looked at him straight in the eye when he repeated his words, loud and clear. “You are a wizard, Patrick.”

The three of them was dead silent for a long time, looking at the man like he was crazy. Patrick might have literally gone crazy himself, with other people’s baggage passing through his brain like airports. “I can’t, this is too much for my head.” Patrick put the letter onto the table and stood, wanting to go to his room and sleep. However, before he could pass through his concerned mother, Mr. Longbottom’s voice once again broke the silence.

“Patrick, this morning you performed accidental magic and triggered a fire alarm in your school.”

Now his parents were looking at him with eyes widened. Patrick mirrored their expression, hoping that this was some kind of a joke, but Mr. Longbottom did not seem to throw him one.

“That wasn’t me! I swear! I was on the floor, got beaten up that time when . . .”

His words trailed off when he was starting to remember this morning’s incident. He was so scared that time, then he felt a jolt inside his body and the next thing he knew . . .

“That was  _me_? I did that?”

Mr. Longbottom nodded. “Hogwarts is notified every time there is an accidental burst of magic by someone that is still not out of age yet. Also, your name appeared in our list of potential students when you all move here last month. If you stayed in America, Ilvermorny would probably approach you but that was another story to tell,” he cut his rambling quickly when he saw the blank look on Stump’s family. “But yes, you did that.”

“Was that why you were soaked wet when I picked you at school? The fire alarm was triggered?” his mother asked, oddly enough managed to calm herself. Not so much with his father.

“But that can be anyone! It could be another kid who . . “

“Dad,” Patrick’s low voice cut him gently. “I think I did that. I felt it.”

His father opened and closed his mouth like a fish, unable to say anything else after that. Mr. Longbottom gently pushed the unread letter back to Patrick’s direction. “You might want to read this, now that you understand that this is not a prank.”

Patrick slowly lowered himself back to the couch and reached for his letter. His heart beat fast as he finally read it, or at least the first of two letters.

 

**_HOGWARTS SCHOOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_ **

_Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall_

_Dear Mr. Patrick Stump,_  
_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall  
Headmistress_

 

Patrick suddenly felt dizzy. There were so many questions to ask but the first thing that came out of his mouth after he was done reading it was . . .

“31st of July. That’s . . . that’s tomorrow,” he said dumbly.

“Wait, we need to decide this tonight?” His father finally found his voice back and he did not sound pleased with this new information.

Mr. Longbottom rubbed his neck, felt quite guilty. “This was the reason why I came in such an odd time. You see, your name appeared in our list a bit late because you just moved here recently. It won’t appear at least thirty days after your departure in England, indicating that you did not just go here for leisure. I am deeply sorry about this but you have to give your answer to me tonight.”

“Absolutely not! We need to think this through first and . . .”

“This is shocking news to us and we can’t just let him . . .”

“I want to.”

Patrick’s small voice gave a bigger impact to his parents. Before any of them could override his opinion or changed his mind, he continued, “I want to. Mr. Longbottom said that what I did was accidental burst. What if I do it again, the next time someone beat me up again? I could get them hurt! I might be . . . normal there.” He ended it with a heavy sigh and the last reason. “It’s either this or getting tutored by Kevin for a year.”

“What Patrick said, I’m afraid, is right,” Mr. Longbottom spoke up again. “Magic that is not nurtured correctly can potentially harm the wizard themselves and other people near them. It’s best if Patrick do it in safe environment.”

“You spoke as if our son is a freak,” his father’s tone dropped dangerously low but Patrick got his attention back by grabbing his arm.

“Dad, I am a freak,” he quietly said. “I wouldn’t get beaten up if I was normal like the other kids but I’m not. Let me be normal for once, please? I can’t . . . I can’t go back to normal school again, not even with Megan. I wouldn’t stand a week in high school.”

“Patrick,” his mother looked hurt by what he just said. “You should tell us the truth earlier.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I can’t disappoint both of you again by saying that I don’t even want to go back to attending school.”

His mother sighed, then put her hand on top of his free one and asked, “Is this what you truly want?”

Honestly, Patrick did not know what he wanted, but if this could protect everyone from him then it was close enough. “Yes.”

His mother finally nodded and said, “Then you have my permission.”

“Dad?” Patrick tried to get his attention but his father’s eyes were back to Mr. Longbottom. His expression was grimmer than before and Patrick somewhat scarred of what he might said now.

“Can this school guarantee that my son will be safe from harassing there? My wife just withdrew him from his former school because they punished him for standing up against bullying and I won’t let that happen again. Can you guarantee that?”

Mr. Longbottom unexpectedly smiled at Patrick after hearing his father’s request. “That was all the bruising about? You stood up against bullies? Oh, I can’t wait to see you at the Gryffindor table,” he said, chuckling to what he just said.

“To answer your question, no; I simply cannot. I was just like your son when I attended Hogwarts. I get bullied a lot whenever the professors were not around. It happens to all children in every school ever existed in my opinion. However, I can promise you that he will get new family that will protect him when he needed one. Hogwarts professors will not tolerate unfair fights like what happened to Patrick and the punishment for that will be severe.”

Patrick never felt this warm after hearing Mr. Longbottom’s promises. Could he actually make friends there? Could he have someone to guard his back, instead of relying on his own?

Now Patrick knew what he wanted.

His father was shifting his gaze at Patrick, who did not realize that he was being watched. The words were clearly calming the two Stump’s paranoia. Finally,  _finally_ , Mr. Stump nodded at Patrick, giving him his permission. “If that’s what you want, then you can go.”

Mr. Longbottom clasped his hands in satisfaction. “Excellent! I will let the school know your decision. Now, since Patrick needs to get his school supply and you clearly do not know where to get it, I can arrange some . . .”

The rest of conversation got lost in Patrick’s mind. He was feeling too giddy to listen. He was a wizard, and he was going to attend a wizardry school. He would not be the freak kid in school anymore.

Right?

 

* * *

 

Patrick’s parents insisted that the journey to get his school supply was postponed until he was fully recovered. Fortunately, Mister (or Professor, now that Patrick was really going to be one of his students) Longbottom who would accompany them shopping was very considerate and had no problem with their demand.

On the second week of August, Professor Longbottom agreed to meet Patrick and both of his parents (they were very persistent on this matter) in front of a bookstore in Charing Cross Road. It was almost 11 in the afternoon and the road was super busy the three of them had to stand close to the bookstore’s window shop to avoid other pedestrians.

Despite being excited, Patrick’s anxious level was also over the roof. The fact that Professor Longbottom was late did not help his mind settled at all. What if this was just a prank? What if the school did not want to accept a freak like him? What if-

His train of thoughts was cut when his eyes caught an old man wearing the same eccentric robe like Professor Longbottom’s walking passed him and went to a building next to the bookstore. Patrick frowned as he looked at the small shady building; he did not remember seeing it the first time they arrived. His eyes climbed up to the name board hanging on top of the door.

The board says _Leaky Cauldron_ , written in gold.

“Mr. and Mrs. Stump! I’m terribly sorry for being late; I have to attend an urgent meeting in the Ministry that I could not escape from.”

 Patrick turned his eyes to find the Professor was standing in front of them, panting a bit. The older man met his gaze and greeted him with a warm smile. “Patrick, I hope you’re feeling much better today?”

Now that his fear was proven to be irrelevant, how could he not? “Very much, Professor,” he said, nodding.

“The Ministry? As in the British Government?” his father asked a bit skeptical by his excuse.

“No no, I mean the Ministry of Magic. Dealing with Muggle government is clearly not my division,” the man chuckled as if Patrick’s father said something funny to him. “Now, if you would kindly follow me.”

Professor Longbottom led the bewildered family to, much to Patrick’s surprise, the Leaky Cauldron. When they entered the door, not a single pedestrian was looking at their direction. It was as if they became invisible along with the building.

Leaky Cauldron was apparently a pub, stocked with wooden tables and chairs that made Patrick felt like he was thrown a few centuries back. Since the fireplace was not lit, the only source of light was the sunray coming from the giant window on one side of the wall. The place was quite vacant that day, only five guests (one of them was the old man Patrick saw earlier) occupying the tables, minding their own business. Despite the gloomy color, Patrick somehow caught the warm homey vibe from all of it.

That was, until he saw that the pictures in the wall was moving.

“The pictures are moving!” Patrick shrieked a bit too loud for his likeness. His face felt hot when few guests were staring at him, one lady was even _chuckling_.

“Ah, yes, about that,” Professor Longbottom said to the shocked Stumps with a guilty look. “I was supposed to debrief you with basic knowledge about the world of magic before we got here but my schedule wasn’t allowing me to visit you again to do that. I intend to fix that after we get Patrick’s school supplies. I will treat you my wife’s famous mead as my apology; she’s the landlady of this pub.”

The professor led the dumbstruck family toward the back of the pub and into the exit door toward a small courtyard with a trash can next to the wall. Before one of them could mutter another embarrassing remark, Professor Longbottom withdrew his wand (Patrick still could not believe that the piece of stick was actually a real magical _wand_ like in the movies) and tapped the third brick from the trash can then the second across the first one.

“Once Patrick got his wand, you can come back here through the same way we use earlier anytime you want. It’s quite safe to explore the alley but make sure not to enter the shady area.”

Patrick only heard half of his words as his attention were fully captivated the moment the bricks were _moving_ , opening a new path for them to get through to whatever lies behind it.

“Wow,” was all he said when he saw what it was.

“Welcome to Diagon Alley,” Professor Longbottom warmly said to the family.

The alley was filled with lots of people wearing various degree of oddness but for the first time Patrick was not petrified by them. If anything, the lines of shops and booths simply took the cake. The architectures were no different than Leaky Cauldron; they were weird, ancient-looking, and looked amazing at the same time. Patrick’s hungry eyes were trying to get every detail he could absorb from the sight: little children getting berated by their parents for chasing a chocolate-looking frog on the ground, older children carrying a sleek broomstick that looked way cooler than any broom Patrick saw in the supermarkets, boards with the name of Ollivanders and Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

_IreallywantthatSirius2017broomstickIhopeMomwouldbuyitformethisChristmas_

_UrghIhateleeches_

_Twogalleonsarejusttooexpensive_

Patrick let out a laugh of relief upon seeing all of this. This was simply too real to be faked by anyone, not even those dumb television shows. By the look of his parents, he thought they also agreed with him. Finally.

They began their weird journey to the Gringotts Wizarding Bank to exchange the Muggle money with wizard currency. If the money’s name and shape was weird enough for Patrick, he had way crazier opinion on the bank employees ( _You simply don’t want to mess with goblins here or anywhere else_ , Professor Longbottom said in hushed tone).

After that, the professor explained what shop they should visit according to Patrick’s needs that were written in the letter. To save some time, the elderly people dropped Patrick in Eeylops Owl Emporium with enough money to buy his future pet ( _Better get an owl so you can post mails with it,_ the professor kindly suggested). He then was shown the direction toward Ollivanders which was not too far from there to get his wand.

“Should we go together?” his mother was clearly not happy that they would get separated. “The day is still young, after all.”

“There are at least six stores that we need to visit to get all of Patrick’s supplies. It’s more efficient this way. He won’t need us in these two and it is better that way,” the professor apologetically said.

“No problem, you guys can meet me at Ollivanders,” Patrick reassured them as he was very eager to explore them on their own.

His parents finally let him be and Patrick was soon alone among the loud screeching of owls and who knew what else they sold there. Well, he was technically not alone since there were a bunch of children his age that were clearly there for the same reason, but still.

His heart was thumping hard as he approached the darker section of the shop where they kept the owls. He had imagined that he would have a dog as a pet but never in a million years did he think that he would get his own _owl_ instead. That being said, he _had_ to get the perfect one.

Ten minutes circling the area told him that it would not be as easy as getting a dog; at least he knew what dog he would prefer to have. All these owls looked intimidating to him. There were few that looked really badass but he did not think they will let him have them as a pet. Some were small enough that he mistook them as tennis ball if they were not brown but he did not think they could fly against the wind, let alone carrying his mail.

His options were limited to the medium sized breed; big enough to carry mails but small enough not to intimidate him. While circling the said area for the third time and already felt desperate, Patrick thought he finally found the one. This breed looked quite common, he was pretty sure he had seen it somewhere in the movie. The bird he was eyeing got a caramel smooth feather; the color softened a bit on the area of neck up to its head and went completely white on the face. Its eyes were not as big as the others.

All in all, it looked really, really pretty.

The owl was sleeping peacefully, undisturbed by its noisy friends. Patrick stretched out his hand toward the cage, wanting to pet the owl like he would have done if he was in the canal picking out a dog right now.

“Don’t pet her!”

Patrick jumped back in shock and pulled his arm as if it was electrified. When he turned to the source of the scream, he was met with a boy of his age standing a few feet from him. The first thing that got his attention was his attire; he was wearing a dark brown leather jacket on top of his black t-shirt. Not like the biker jacket, but simpler and had way more rips on the surface. He was a bit taller than Patrick, had a short curly black hair and the bluest eyes he ever saw. Those blue eyes were now giving Patrick a horror look.

_WhatthefuckishedoingIshecrazy_

The thoughts that he heard coming from the boy made him flinched but it was nothing compared to the verbal version he heard after that.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing?! Don’t startle a sleeping owl, dude. They’ll bite off your finger!”  

Now Patrick had the same look as his. His hope was deflated in seconds. How could he possibly have one if he knew nothing about it? Maybe he could find another way to send his mail later and skipped this store altogether. That owl was too good for him anyway.

“Are you going to buy her?” the kid asked, now seemed curious.

 _It was a female, of course_ , Patrick cursed himself once again for not knowing the basic stuff as his face went red. “I was- I mean. . . I’m not too sure. I don’t even know if I have to. . .”

“Are you a Muggle born?” he cut him, not unkindly though.

Patrick sighed. He was starting to hate that name, might as well call him a freak. “Is it that obvious?”

“Hey, no, don’t worry about that. Here, let me show you how to do it properly.” Startled but said nothing, Patrick moved aside so the boy could stand directly in front of the owl’s cage.

“The first thing that you want to do is making sure that she notices your intention,” he said, bowing a bit and making a clucking sound to wake the owl. “You can pet her head once you two get along. Until then, let her come to you first.” Much to Patrick’s shock, the boy opened the cage and stepped aside. “Go on, stick your palm next to her head and wait until she approaches you.”

Patrick gave him a horror look. “A-are you sure it’s safe?”

The boy shrugged. “Well, she could still bite you but you won’t risk losing your finger this time. Barn owl is quite polite compared to the other species so I wouldn’t be too worried about it.”

 Those words did not ease Patrick at all but he decided to take the risk and slowly put his hand inside the cage. The owl which was hanging on the other side of the cage observed his hand curiously. She then took a little jump toward it and stopped, moving her head in such a funny motion that made Patrick giggled.

“That’s a good sign. She is curious,” the boy gave his approval.

The owl jumped a little more down the stick until she was only a few centimeters away from Patrick’s hand.

“Good. Now move your hand slowly toward her head at gave her a nice pet.”

Patrick held his breath as he did as told. When the tip of his fingers touched the soft feather, he had to hold the urge to pull away and simply continued to stroke her. He finally let himself breathing again when the owl closed her eyes and seemed to enjoy each stroke that he gave her.

“I can’t believe it works!” Patrick exclaimed excitedly. He did not care if he looked like an idiot, he was petting an owl!

“So you’re saying I’m a liar?”

“N-no! Of course . . .!”

“I’m just kidding,” he chuckled, slapping his shoulder a bit too hard. “I’m Joe Trohman, soon to be a First Year at Hogwarts too.”

“Patrick Stump,” he replied while still stroking the now sleepy owl. “Thanks a lot for your help! Oh and thanks for the early warning as well. I’d like to keep my fingers intact. How come you know so much about this? Are both of your parents wizard?”

“Only my mom, she’s a Magizoologist. I know a thing or two about magical animals from her,” he said as he _casually_ opened the cage next to the one Patrick chose and expertly petting a mean looking owl. “Dad’s a doctor.”

Patrick turned to face him. “You can have mixed parents? I thought . . .”

“That bloodline is exclusive? Please,” he said, lips curled in disdain. “Wizards will be extinct in no time if that happens. Well, it did happen back then but obviously it didn’t work. Half blood, pure blood, Muggle born; it’s just genes. In fact, the current Minister for Magic is Muggle-born and she is badass. I wouldn’t be too worried about that if I were you”

“Really? That’s . . . wow.” Joe’s word gave warmth to his chest. For a moment, he was afraid that there would be a caste among the wizard society and he would be in the lowest level. Hearing those things and knowing that Joe’s dad did something that Patrick was familiar with was very comforting.

They continued to pet each owl in silence for a couple more minutes until Joe was happy enough that his owl as sleeping and then extracted back his hand from the cage.

“I need to go now or else my Mom would flip out again. Good choice with the owl, by the way. You might want to buy a treat for her too; it’s over there near the counter,” he pointed at the direction after shrugging his jacket.

Patrick nodded and after giving a last stroke to the now sleeping owl, he closed the cage and stretched his back. “Thanks again for your help, Joe. I guess see you at school?”

Joe laughed. “We can meet again at the train. I’ll try to find you.”

He waved as he walked out of the shop, leaving Patrick who was grinning from ear to ear with his new pet.

Did he just get a new friend _before_ the school start?

 

* * *

 

The following weeks until the first of September were the most fun and, at the same time, surreal for Patrick.

After having a long and in-depth talk with Professor Longbottom at the Leaky Cauldron, Patrick’s parents and himself finally realized just how real this whole thing was. The more the wizard talked, the more Patrick wanted to go straight to Hogwarts that day. He could not wait to see Joe again; for a boy at his age his mind was oddly calm enough for Patrick to be able to enjoy his company. After meeting Joe, the idea of having a family that the professor promised him on the day they met did not seem too fat-fetched anymore.

His parents were also becoming more open to the idea of magic and Patrick being a part of it. At the end of their conversation, his mother gave him a tight hug and a bright proud smile that got him a bit teary. On the way back to the station, his father nudged his forehead and said, “Always knew you were special, kid.”

Kevin and Megan’s reaction was no less enthusiastic than them. Megan instantly fell in love with Penny the owl when Patrick went into the house with her cage. Patrick let her out from the cage and gave her some owl treat first before letting his sister pet her the way Joe taught him to; his warning was still crystal clear inside his head. Kevin was understandably skeptical at the beginning, but after their parents gave a long explanation of what Professor Longbottom shared to them earlier along with the help of Penny and moving pictures on Patrick’s schoolbooks (he was still kind of freaked out about it too) he finally accepted that his little brother was after all a wizard ( _You have to play a magic trick for my next birthday. No excuses!_ Kevin jokingly said).

Now every night after dinner, the Stumps used their quality time by reading Patrick’s schoolbooks instead of watching TV. By the third day, after Patrick felt the most comfortable with whom he was, he could not help but laughed as he watched his whole family was way into reading the book on their lap. They were never a big fan of book until now. His favorite one was _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_ and _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection._ There were some pretty cool and useful stuff in there that he hoped he could master it in the future.

On daily basis, Patrick would let Penny stretched his wings by letting her out of the cage. At one point, she freaked out his mother by bringing home dead mouse but other than that everyone loved her. She might be a bit too cocky sometimes (Patrick rolled his eyes when she refused a cracker that he gave to her in exchange for her owl treat), but overall she got quite a decent manner for a bird (maybe that was why she could be cocky sometimes). At night, after everyone departed to their room, Penny would fly toward Patrick’s room with him and went back into the cage voluntarily. She was cute like that.

Of all the items he got from Diagon Alley, he felt the least enthusiastic about his new wand. If anything, he was a bit afraid of it. The shopkeeper’s words were still ringing in his ears:

_“Nine and a half inches_ _Cypress with Unicorn hair on its core. Very handsome wand, one of my favorite creations. My uncle said that those who are chosen by Cypress wand will do great things. It was an honor meeting you, young man,” the young lady with silver hair said with a soft smile hanging on her beautiful face._

He got the wand after his fifth time destroying whatever object the wand got when he swung it halfheartedly (in his defense, the lady asked him to do it). His skepticism was quickly gone as soon as his fingers wrapped onto this Cypress wand. Warmth literally bled from the handle and sipped onto his whole body. If he had to explained how he felt, it truly felt like coming home.

The wand’s color was light caramel, a bit darker on the grip area. Most of its surface was smooth with the exception of symbols he yet to discover what they meant engraved all over it. The length was ideal for his small posture that he would not feel ridiculous waving it. As he gave his first try, a mini tornado was formed on top of the mess he created earlier, making his eyes bulged in surprise. The whole thing was too surreal for him that he forgot his fear that he would end up with a wand that looked like the one in the cartoon.

But those big words… He just realized that magic was real, like, two weeks ago. Unlike Joe and many other kids that he would soon meet at Hogwarts, he was a Muggle-born that knew _nothing_ about magic whatsoever. To suddenly receive such a powerful object accompanied by even bigger hopes on his shoulder was too much for Patrick. That was why he left it untouched inside its case and put it on the cauldron among the pile of his school supplies (he still could not believe that he owned a real cauldron as well). He would pocket it on the day he was going to abroad the train to Hogwarts but until then he would change the topic every time his family mentioned it.

That day was today, unfortunately.

Everything was already packed into his trunk. Penny was sleeping on the cage, feeling full with the treats that he gave her earlier that morning. He doubled check the content of the trunk twice to make sure that none of the weird potion ingredient was left behind. His uniform was folded neatly on the top section; he would change on the train to avoid weird looks from ordinary commuters at the King’s Cross.

He put the case of his wand on his bed and now that everything was already at the front door, he went back to his room to retrieve it. His hand slightly shook as his fingers pulled off the lid. The sight still caught his breath just like the first time he was presented with it. Carefully, he lifted it and held it properly on his grip for the first time since the day he got it.

“I don’t know if you can hear me or this makes me look like an idiot even more,” he said to the wand, did not know what make him do it in the first place, “but I will try to live up to your expectation so bear with me, okay?”

Predictably enough, the wand did nothing. With a deep sigh, Patrick gave up and just slipped it onto the left sleeve of his jacket. He threw a final glance to his bedroom and quietly prayed that he would come back to it happier in Christmas holiday or next year.

Kevin and Megan skipped school so that they could say goodbye to Patrick in the station (and Megan to Penny). Patrick was glad they could come and distracted him from being nervous with Kevin throwing usual humor and Megan cooing to get Penny’s attention. His right hand was palming through the wand behind his jacket’s sleeve the entire journey to the station.

He was glad that he did not wear his uniform to the station because his enormous ancient-looking trunk and Penny already attracted enough attention to them. Luckily, they departed from the house quite early so they did not need to rush to the location for being late.

Speaking about the location . . .

The five of them stood awkwardly in front of the ticket box that was located between Platforms Nine and Ten. Patrick looked down at the train ticket on his hand, where the word _Platform 9¾_ was clearly written on the center.

“This must be the place right?” His dad asked to no one in particular, his expression matched Patrick’s.

“Well, I don’t see other ticket box between these two platforms aside from this one. It’s a safe bet,” his mother reasoned.

“ _Andrew_! Get back here!”

The Stumps turned to their back at the exact time as a young boy with dark hair ran passed them and went straight to the ticket box. They were about to shout a warning at that kid when the crash did not happen; the boy simply disappeared into it.

As they froze in shock, a lady with the same hair color as the boy wearing a long black elegant travel coat ran passed them while muttering “Excuse me.” She, too, did not hesitate walking toward the metal box and soon enough disappeared just like the boy did earlier.

“Well, that’s your answer,” Patrick’s mother said to her husband in a matter of fact, being the first one to recover.

“You don’t have to run if you’re scared, just don’t stop until you see the train,” said someone behind Patrick.

Patrick jolted in shock and as he turned once again, his eyes were greeted with the sight of a black, mean-looking owl. His back slammed onto his trolley as he unconsciously jumped away from the creature with an undignified yelp that he was not proud of.

Trying to control his crazy heartbeat, he looked up to see a boy probably several years older than him standing behind the trolley that carried the scary-looking owl. The green and silver scarf around his neck stood out against his black jacket. Both of them had a matching hair color, with the boy styled his to be sleek and the girl who was definitely his little sister braided hers. His left hand was holding a little girl’s hand who seemed interested in a confused looking family standing in front of them.

The boy? He was looking straight at Patrick, wearing a very amused look that made the other boy blushed furiously like a tomato.

His face grew hotter when he could hear his thought.

_Merlinsbeardthisboyissocute_

The boy finally gave him a small mercy and chose to address Patrick’s whole family as well. “First time going to Platform 9¾?” he said politely and a bit to formal for his age. Patrick did not fail to notice that he was not using the term Muggle, a small thing that he was grateful for.

“Yes, this is all very new to us,” Mr. Stump replied a bit meekly.

“Quite understandable,” he agreed, and then nudged his sister’s cheek using the hand that held hers. “This is Hillary’s first time as well. There’s no need to worry about crashing onto the wall. If you want to get it over quickly, you can just run like my brother did,” he chuckled at that, “but a little jog works as well. The key is to keep walking until you’re there.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Mrs. Stump said, clearly trying to believe her own words. Both of Patrick’s parents threw each other uncertain look before they turned to the boy.

“You can go first if . . .”

“No no, we’re not in a hurry. There’s still plenty of time until the train departs. I can assist you from this side if case you guys need any help,” he smoothly cut Patrick’s dad, although not impolitely.

Not wanting to stall the line any longer, the elderly finally relented. “I’ll go with Megan and you with Kevin,” Mr. Stump said to his wife as if they were going to go into battle, much to Patrick’s further embarrassment. His dad looked at him and said, “Patrick, do you want to. . .”

“I’ll go last,” he quickly said, then backtracked a bit by adding, “If that’s okay with you guys.”

His dad merely nodded then picked Megan up to his shoulder. “Ready, Megs?”

“No,” she said, voice small and trembled, “but I have to say goodbye to Penny!” Patrick would roll his eyes if she was not in the brink of crying.

His dad comforted her by patting on her legs while kept talking to distract her as they slowly approached the metal box. He kept doing that until they joined the people who vanished through the barrier.

Mrs. Stump let out a deep sigh before she addressed his eldest son.  “Do you want to run or walk?”

“Run. This seems fun,” he laughed, definitely looked interested with this whole thing. Patrick stifled a laugh when she rolled her eyes.

“Catch up with us soon, Patrick,” she said before they took off to the same direction as two of their family members did.

That left Patrick alone with the boy and his sister. Much to his surprise, the boy offered his free hand to him.

“I’m Pete,” he said while flashing a wide, toothy grin.

“Patrick,” the other boy replied, shaking the hand. He was glad that his voice sounded pretty normal now. “Thanks for the pointer. I was scared that we got to the wrong location and made us slammed out face into a real concrete.”

Pete brayed in laughter. “Well, lucky for you that my brother cut the line to make sure that it was the right wall.”

Patrick’s nervous demeanor loosened up a bit as he cracked a smile.

_ItsashameSlytherindoesnotfavorMuggleborns_

Patrick’s smile was instantly gone the moment he heard his thought. However, he could not sense a flicker of mockery on his face. If anything, he looked a bit disappointed instead.

Before Patrick could ask him about that, Pete pushed his trolley next to his and motioned his head toward the barrier. “Come on, you go first. We don’t want to scare your parents.”

Patrick swallowed his bile. Having no other choice, he lined up his trolley right ahead of the barrier. Maybe it was better for him to run onto it instead.

A playful slap landed on his arm, once again jolted him up. “Relax! You’re making me nervous and I’ve been here twice already!” Pete said, half scolding him.

“Not helping!” the younger boy retorted back, this time face flushed with anger instead. “Why don’t you go first since you’re so eager to go?”

Pete’s eyebrows rose up. “And risking you to chicken out before you haven’t even see Hogwarts? Not a chance. If you need a hard push, I can . . .”

“Don’t you dare,” he said while throwing a murderous look, which only made Pete laughed again. “Wizards,” he murmured but apparently loud enough for Pete to hear it too.

The older boy’s expression suddenly turned serious. “That sort of thing can only be said by Muggles. Since Hogwarts sent you an acceptance letter, you’re now a wizard too. Learn to respect your new identity, boy. Not everyone get the chance to experience this world fully, bloodline be damned, so consider yourself lucky.”

His words felt like a hard slap on Patrick’s face. Pete was right, every single word that he said. He was so used to being an outsider that he often forgot that he was not one anymore. He was a wizard just like him now.

“Sorry,” was all he could say, eyes lowered in shame.

He could hear Pete sigh tiredly. “Let’s just get on with it, okay? Your parents might already freak out by now.”

Pete’s words still stung that he forgot about his nervousness. Without another word, he began to push his trolley and accelerated the speed as his anger toward himself gave him adrenaline, numbing his fear. This is just another magical thing that he needed to learn accepting it instead fearing it.

He would not let a solid metal wall stopped him from being who he was.

Patrick closed his eyes but did not slow down as he now ran full speed toward the solid wall. Instead of pain, he felt like walking through an air-tight space. The feeling only last for two seconds before it was replaced by the normal if not a bit hot air. He finally let his eyes opened and he could not hold back a relieved laugh.

In front of him stood an old-fashioned, gallant train with the name of Hogwarts Express and the school’s emblem plastered on the front. Thin grey smoke was soaring from the chimney, making the whole station covered by thin fog. Behind the smoke, commuters – no, _wizards_ – were filling up the station. Children at his age were pushing the same trolley as his. Parents were nagging at their children to make sure that they had everything needed before the train departed. Smaller children were running between pairs of feet, some were chasing a loose frog and the others were wearing eerie expression while looking for their missing family.

All of it felt . . . _normal_.

A hand landed on his head and ruffled his hair but this time he was not surprised or did not mind at all. He looked at the doer and Pete was giving him I-told-you-so look, just like he suspected. If anything, it comforted him.

“See you at school, Patrick,” he said with a big grin then departed with his sister before Patrick got the chance to reply.

Nevermind, he was sure that they would meet again just like Pete said.

 

* * *

 

Right after Patrick had stored his trunk in the storage compartment, he went back to his family who stood near one of the entry door. It was ten to eleven, ten more minutes before the train departed. Patrick dreaded and cherished the moment he had to board the train. If he was being honest to himself, his level of excitement had finally beaten the anxiety that he felt ever since Professor Longbottom came to their house.

His mom hugged him first in a tight embrace. “Do your best, alright? Send us as many letters as you can. We want every detail of your study process,” she said with a bit watery eyes that almost broke Patrick’s self defense. He would not cry in that station.

“Will do, mom. Don’t worry about that,” he said, patting her back.

His father was next. He practically dragged Patrick close to him then trapped him in his typical bear hug, knocking out oxygen from his lungs.

“If you feel Hogwarts isn’t where you belong, contact us and we will get you out of there, alright? We only want the best for you. I don’t want the last incident happen to you again,” he said close to his ear so he was the only one who could hear him.

 _That_ got his eyes teared up.

“It won’t, dad. Promise,” was all Patrick could say, hugging him back just as tight.

As soon as his father let him go, Kevin got him into a headlock but Patrick could not bring himself to get mad this time. He knew that he was going to miss this annoying prank as soon as he boarded the train.

“Better study all of the tricks, kid. You’re still going to perform on my birthday no matter what happen,” his brother said as they wrestled.

Patrick’s face was red from the lack of air and embarrassment by the time he went to say goodbye to Megan. Her face was no better than his; tears and snot were smeared all over her face. Feeling his heart broke at the sight, he crouched in front of her and embraced her little figure tightly.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’ll probably be back for Christmas,” he said, trying to soothe her.

Instead, she cried harder. “But _Penny_ . . .”

Damn it. So close.

“I’ll send her home as often as I can. Now pretend that you’re going to miss me or I won’t give you any chocolate when I’m back,” he grudgingly said while the rest of their family laughed their butt off.

“I’ll miss you too, Patrick,” she said in quieter voice after her cry died out a bit. Patrick ruffled her brunette hair in response. Gosh, he hoped she did not grow too tall by the time he went home.

The train conductor blew his whistle hard, signaling all students to board the train. Children began to march toward the train and bid their family goodbye. Some were already on the train, waving their hand from the train’s window at their parents and siblings.

Patrick’s heart was thumping hard. This was it. Whatever happened at the other end of this journey, he could not go back despite what his dad said. No matter how hard it would be, how many migraine pills he needed to consume to shut down the noises inside his head (his parents bought him several boxes and even the skeptic Patrick would not dismiss this Plan B in case he could not find a way to stop the noises), he would remain there as long as he could. A brief meeting with people like Professor Longbottom, Joe, and Pete was enough to prove that he would get a better shot here to adapt than the normal _Muggle_ schools.

This was also his last chance not to burden his family.

“I’ll see you during Christmas holiday. I’ll post as many letters as I can,” Patrick promised, giving them a huge smile to cover his nervousness.

Knowing that he did not have much time left, he finally boarded the train and luckily found an empty spot by the window to stick his head out. The deafening sound of the train horn filled the station. Soon enough the train started to move and Patrick was slowly taken away from his family. It was only then he let his guard down.

The last thing Patrick saw before the train completely left the station was a blur image of his family who wore the same expression as himself.

Saddened, but proud and hopeful nevertheless.

**Author's Note:**

> I have all the characters' house planned but I appreciate your thought if you want to play Sorting Hat! I might even change it if you can convince me (expect FOB, but you're still welcome to guess which house do Patrick, Andy, and Joe belong to).


End file.
